Melodies
by The Chainsaw Juliet
Summary: They've always been an odd pair of almost-friends, one passionate and fiery; the other prim and focused. Can music bridge the space between them and break their towering defenses? William/Grell
1. Allegro

A/N: This fic relies heavily on music, so please visit the links noted to hear each musical accompaniment.

* * *

><p>She didn't believe in ghosts because she knew better. That didn't make this late night trek less scary than it turned out to be. She had left her key at her desk and only upon returning to her flat after an exhausting overtime shift did she realize this. So back to the Division she was forced to go, weathering the heavy downpour and crackle of lightning overhead.<p>

Ghosts weren't horrifying, mutilated monsters (well _sometimes_ they were but those cases were circumstantial) or translucent white sheets. They just happened to be roaming souls that for some reason or another had not gone to their rest. The Division had a handful of them that stuck around despite being judged centuries ago._ 'To keep things in order', _they would say to whomever happened to gather up the courage to ask.  
>This meant that the London Division was never quite devoid of company, even late at night when Grell Sutcliff found herself treading as quiet a path through the long hallways as she could manage whilst wishing her heels would stop making such a god-awful noise with each step.<p>

'_Forgot somethin', poppet_?' Grell clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a loud shriek, shivering violently when an icy touch grasped her shoulder. She snuck a gaze at the owner.  
>"Yes Director Grayson- left my house key at my desk, silly sod that I am."<br>'_On your way then, and mind you don't disturb William._'  
>"Of course sir, I-" Grell blinked, "what do you mean disturb William?" But no one remained by her side.<p>

The key was right where she had left it: nestled in the top drawer and tied with a velvet ribbon. With a sigh of relief she tucked it into her pocket before the sting of curiosity became too sharp to bear. Whatever did the past Director mean, leaving William undisturbed? What was that man still doing here nearing midnight? Even overtime seemed far too unreasonable an explanation.

It was in her stillness that she finally heard, there just _there _over the sound of relentless rain and purring thunder; music. The piano, for there was only one and it resided in the Recreation room, was being played by a very fleshly being not hiding in Grell's night-induced paranoia.

And there he was; William T. Spears sat at the grand piano by the large, arching bay windows drenched in candlelight and racing his slender fingers up and down the keys. The black leather that usually hid his hands lay draped atop the piano, along with a few files Grell guessed to be more paperwork.  
>Leaning against the doorway, she found herself smiling as she closed her eyes and just listened to him play. Without sight she could imagine a very different pianist thundering the notes of <span>Brahm's Piano Sonata<span>*. _Allegro, _this piece's tempo demanded, and it was a word Grell could not see herself connecting to William.

"_Allegro,"_ Grell raised her voice so William noticed her and paused in his playing, "means joy in Italian." She took a seat beside him at the piano, watching the ghosts of emotions touch the very corners of his eyes, his lips, his brows. A mixture of surprise, embarrassment and indignation.  
>"What are you doing here, Sutcliff?" Compared to his musical recital, the way he recited words sounded flat and lifeless. The same mechanized response, over and over and over... Grell flicked through the music book open on the stand.<br>"I left my key at my desk by accident. What are __you __doing here, Spears?" She turned the question back on him and he frowned.  
>"I like to use the grand piano here. I have no room at my flat for one."<br>"I didn't know you could play." Grell inspected his face quizzically.  
>"You never asked. I took Music as my extra-curricular when you took Theatre back at the Academy." William straightened his cuffs and his glasses out of habit. Grell replaced the music book on the stand. He studied the music.<br>"I cannot play this."  
>"Rachmaninoff is a<em><em> staple, <em>_Spears." Grell teased. William shot him a look of irritation.__  
><em>_"Opus 11, number 2** is a__ _duet, ___Sutcliff."  
>"I know." She laughed, plucking off her gloves. "So let's see if we can last three minutes in civility?"<p>

And he found that they could.

* * *

><p>*Box . net shared / zjce8dt53o

**Box . net / shared / xg4kp9ut5u


	2. Mozart

A/N: This fic relies heavily on music, so please visit the links noted to hear each musical accompaniment.

* * *

><p>He was such an odd creature, this Grell Sutcliff fellow. He had been right on track to becoming an Honors Graduate but part way through he seemed to lose all interest in academics and gained an incredible, <em>unshakable<em> interest in making William's life difficult. And he had yet to lost interest in that particular _talent_ of his- and William had to oblige the use of the word 'talent' for not much irritated him.

Yet somehow when they sat side by side at the piano after hours, he seemed quite bearable. Civil, really. _Friendly _if he strained to find a compliment. When they were not exchanging verbal blows, he found they could pass a considerable amount of time in amicable company. The redhead's talent in playing the piano was perhaps only rivalled by his talent in operatic singing with a voice so rich and deep and pure that William wondered if he really did belong here as a Reaper and not on the stage he so admired.

"I did not know you liked Mozart." William noted as Grell sat the music sheets on the stand.  
>"You never asked." He winked and brought his hands down to jolt the first notes of the <span>Piano Sonata K.521 in C Minor<span>*.

* * *

><p>* Box . net  shared / 5veyofmpu5

Sorry for the short chapter- William is rather quiet to write.


End file.
